CHAPTER V.

PHAETON.

PHAETON was the son of Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day a
schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god,
and Phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother.
"If," said he, "I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some
proof of it, and establish my claim to the honour." Clymene
stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, "I call to
witness the Sun which looks down upon us, that I have told you the
truth. If I speak falsely, let this be the last time I behold his
light. But it needs not much labour to go and inquire for yourself;
the land whence the Sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand of
him whether he will own you as a son." Phaeton heard with delight.
He travelled to India, which lies directly in the regions of
sunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence his
parent begins his course.

The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering with
gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings,
and silver the doors. The workmanship surpassed the material;* for
upon the walls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with
their inhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the
waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the
rocks and dried their sea-green hair. Their faces were not all
alike, nor yet unlike,- but such as sisters' ought to be.*(2) The
earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over
all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the
silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side.

* See Proverbial Expressions, no. 1.

*(2) See Proverbial Expressions, no. 2.

Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls of
his disputed father. He approached the paternal presence, but
stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear.
Phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered
as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood the Day, the
Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, the Hours. Spring
stood with her head crowned with flowers, and Summer, with garment
cast aside, and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and
Autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice, and icy Winter, with
his hair stiffened with hoar frost. Surrounded by these attendants,
the Sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled
with the novelty and splendour of the scene, and inquired the
purpose of his errand. The youth replied, "O light of the boundless
world, Phoebus, my father,- if you permit me to use that name,- give
me some proof, I beseech you, by which I may be known as yours." He
ceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all around
his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "My son, you
deserve not to be disowned, and I confirm what your mother has told
you. To put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall
be yours. I call to witness that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but
which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements." Phaeton
immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot
of the sun. The father repented of his promise; thrice and four
times he shook his radiant head in warning. "I have spoken rashly,"
said he; "this only request I would fain deny. I beg you to withdraw
it. It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited to your youth
and strength, Your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a
mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even
the gods themselves may do. None but myself may drive the flaming
car of day. Not even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the
thunderbolts. The first part of the way is steep, and such as the
horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is
high up in the heavens, whence I myself can scarcely, without alarm,
look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. The
last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires most careful
driving. Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me
lest I should fall headlong. Add to all this, the heaven is all the
time turning round and carrying the stars with it. I have to be
perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything
else along, should hurry me also away. Suppose I should lend you the
chariot, what would you do? Could you keep your course while the
sphere was revolving under you? Perhaps you think that there are
forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the
way. On the contrary, the road is through the midst of frightful
monsters. You pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer,
and near the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in
one direction and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy to
guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they
breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely govern
them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins. Beware, my
son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your request while
yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you are sprung from my
blood? I give you a proof in my fears for you. Look at my face- I
would that you could look into my breast, you would there see all a
father's anxiety. Finally," he continued, "look round the world and
choose whatever you will of what earth or sea contains most
precious- ask it and fear no refusal. This only I pray you not to
urge. It is not honour, but destruction you seek. Why do you hang
round my neck and still entreat me? You shall have it if you persist,-
the oath is sworn and must be kept,- but I beg you to choose more
wisely."

He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and held to his
demand. So, having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at last led
the way to where stood the lofty chariot.

It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the pole
and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows
of chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the
brightness of the sun. While the daring youth gazed in admiration, the
early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the
pathway strewn with roses. The stars withdrew, marshalled by the
Day-star, which last of all retired also. The father, when he saw
the earth beginning to glow, and the Moon preparing to retire, ordered
the Hours to harness up the horses. They obeyed, and led forth from
the lofty stalls the Steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the
reins. Then the father bathed the face of his son with a powerful
unguent, and made him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame.
He set the rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "If,
my son, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and
hold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their own accord; the
labour is to hold them in. You are not to take the straight road
directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. Keep
within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and the
southern alike. You will see the marks of the northern and the
southern alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and they will
serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the earth may each receive
their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will burn the
heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire;
the middle course is safest and best.* And now I leave you to your
chance, which I hope will plan better for you than you have done for
yourself. Night is passing out of the western gates and we can delay
no longer. Take the reins; but if at last your heart fails you, and
you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in safety, and
suffer me to light and warm the earth." The agile youth, sprang into
the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight pouring
out thanks to his reluctant parent.

* See Proverbial Expressions, no. 3.

Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery
breath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now the bars are let down, and
the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them. They dart
forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning breezes
which started from the same eastern goal. The steeds soon perceived
that the load they drew was lighter than usual; and as a ship
without ballast is tossed hither and thither on the sea, so the
chariot, without its accustomed weight, was dashed about as if
empty. They rush headlong and leave the travelled road. He is alarmed,
and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power.
Then, for the first time, the Great and Little Bear were scorched with
heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the
water; and the Serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole,
torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage
revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his
plough, and all unused to rapid motion.

When hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in
vast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with terror.
In spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew
dim. He wished he had never touched his father's horses, never learned
his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He is borne along
like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the pilot can do no
more and betakes himself to his prayers. What shall he do? Much of the
heavenly road is left behind, but more remains before. He turns his
eyes from one direction to the other; now to the goal whence he
began his course, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined
to reach. He loses his self-command, and knows not what to do,-
whether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets the
names of the horses. He sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered
over the surface of heaven. Here the Scorpion extended his two great
arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the
zodiac. When the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with
his fangs, his course failed, and the reins fell from his hands. The
horses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and
unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in among the
stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high
heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon saw with astonishment
her brother's chariot running beneath her own. The clouds begin to
smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched with
heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn, the
harvest is ablaze! But these are small things. Great cities
perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with their people
were consumed to ashes! The forest-clad mountains burned, Athos and
Taurus and Tmolus and OEte; Ida, once celebrated for fountains, but
now all dry; the Muses' mountain Helicon, and Haemus; AEtna, with
fires within and without, and Parnassus, with his two peaks, and
Rhodope, forced at last to part with his snowy crown. Her cold climate
was no protection to Scythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus,
and, greater than both, Olympus; the Alps high in air, and the
Apennines crowned with clouds.

Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat
intolerable. The air he breathed was like the air of a furnace and
full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. He
dashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is believed, the people
of AEthiopia became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to the
surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to the condition in
which it remains to this day. The Nymphs of the fountains, with
dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were the rivers safe
beneath their banks: Tanais smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus, and
Meander; Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with golden sands, and
Cayster where the swans resort. Nile fled away and hid his head in the
desert, and there it still remains concealed. Where he used to
discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven
dry channels alone remained. The earth cracked open, and through the
chinks light broke into Tartarus, and frightened the king of shadows
and his queen. The sea shrank up. Where here before was water, it
became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves
lifted up their heads and became islands. The fishes sought the lowest
depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the
surface. Even Nereus, and his wife Doris, with the Nereids, their
daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed
to raise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by the
heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and
shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven,
and with a husky voice called on Jupiter:

"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it is
your will that I perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts? Let
me at least fall by your hand. Is this the reward of my fertility,
of my obedient service? Is it for this that I have supplied herbage
for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars?
But if I am unworthy of regard, what has my brother Ocean done to
deserve such a fate? If neither of us can excite your pity, think, I
pray you, of your own heaven, and behold how both the poles are
smoking which sustain your palace, which must fall if they be
destroyed. Atlas faints, and scarce holds up his burden. If sea,
earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what yet
remains to us from the devouring flame. O, take thought for our
deliverance in this awful moment!"

Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no
more. Then Jupiter omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods,
including him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all
was lost unless some speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty
tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the
forked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to be found to
interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining
unexhausted. He thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his
right hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the
same moment from his seat and from existence! Phaeton, with his hair
on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens
with its brightness as it falls, and Eridanus, the great river,
received him and cooled his burning frame.* The Italian Naiads
reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone:

"Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton,
Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.
He could not rule his father's car of fire,
Yet was it much so nobly to aspire."

* See Proverbial Expressions, no. 4.

His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate, were turned
into poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears, which
continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the stream.

Milman, in his poem of "Samor," makes the following allusion to
Phaeton's story:

"As when the palsied universe aghast
Lay... mute and still,
When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth
Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's
Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled
From th' empyrean headlong to the gulf
Of thee half-parched Eridanus, where weep
Even now the sister trees their amber tears
O'er Phaeton untimely dead."

In the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Landor, descriptive of the
Sea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's palace and chariot. The
water-nymph says:

"...I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
Within, and things that lustre have imbibed
In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked
His chariot wheel stands midway on the wave.
Shake one and it awakens; then apply
Its polished lip to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."
Gebir, Book 1.